


Aziraphale, Informed Voter

by Quannon



Series: Good Omens Character Studies [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quannon/pseuds/Quannon
Summary: Where Aziraphale visits an R18 cinema in Lower Lickfeld Village, South Downs.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Character Studies [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564321
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Aziraphale, Informed Voter

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably not anywhere as explicit as a reader might expect. It mostly discusses scenes in the R18 (XXX) movie that Aziraphale and Crowley went to see.

Aziraphale tutted as he put the finishing touches on his bowtie alignment. “We’ve been through this dear. The ladies in the Outreach Society were very adamant that we needed to Be Alert for this kind of thing creeping into our lives. And, as a voter myself, I want to be fully informed on the issues before the public.” 

Crowley rolled his eyes at that. Since Aziraphale had jumped into Village life with both feet even to the extent of registering to vote, Crowley had had to participate too. They both still kept their hand in with their old professions; still balanced each other out. Hard to drop habits of a lifetime.

Aziraphale stood back from the mirror to judge the effect of his outfit. He was going for Village Dress Casual. It was an odd category, where you wore almost the same thing as Village Casual Casual, except with something slightly more stiff and uncomfortable to indicate the slightly more socially important status of the occasion. It was a very tricky balance between ceremonial formality and ceremonial fuckery. It was oddly reminiscent of somewhere he’d been before, but the place name wouldn’t come to him.

His choice for today was a new bowtie. While still stylish, unbroken-in bow ties could be vexing. 

“Now do come along. We are going to be late!” 

Crowley hrumphed and trailed along behind Aziraphale as he strode toward the Bentley. It was actually a sort of marching he thought. This whole business was bringing out Aziraphale’s repressed Soldier of God aspect. Aggravating. Crowley examined that thought. Yes, aggravating, but, with a smackeral of “hot”. A small secret smile twitched at one corner of his mouth.

Crowley held the door open for Aziraphale as he got into the Bentley. This was an Official Investigation by a member of the Village Advisory Board or so Aziraphale told him. As such, door holding was required. Crowley at one point had tried to overturn that Rule, but it was not worth the purgatory Aziraphale was capable of inflicting when he’d tried to avoid it on Principle. He was still a retired Demon for Someone’s Sake. He couldn’t just go around in public being seen doing nice things. However, Aziraphale could be a bit of a bastard when his feathers were ruffled. To paraphrase Agnes, he chose his battles more wisely now.

Crowley slid into the driver’s seat and switched on the car. Good Old Loverboy blared from the speakers. Crowley hissed and turned the volume down. He still wasn’t 100% clear what they were doing so it was early days for that sentiment. “So Angel. Why are we doing this again? Not that I mind, of course. Could broaden the mind.” He smirked.

Aziraphale tutted again. “Oh Crowley. I’ve told you. Their license is up for renewal and the Village Counsel is a little hesitant to approve it since the addition of the R18 films to the rotation. The ladies volunteered me to go investigate.” His nose rose slightly and a smug smile flirted with his lips. “It was all rather lovely. They believed I was the least likely to be corrupted!”

Crowley groaned. There was nothing good to say here unless he wanted to make his own coffee in the morning.

The three minute drive (We could have just walked, Angel. Silence.) brought them to The Lower Lickfeld Odeon. Crowley parked crookedly in a legitimate parking spot since this was an Official Investigation, but still managed to use up two spaces. Aziraphale glanced at him but let it slide. Everyone knew how Crowley parked. It was so well known, that, in the last few years, he barely needed to miracle any parking police away.

The cinema had been newly remodeled with fresh paint inside and out. Three tasteful glassed-in outdoor bulletin boards housed posters for up-coming attractions, none R18. The gleaming refurbished ticket booth now had digital card swipes for paying with cards or phones and a crawling digital banner behind the ticket taker listing movies, ratings and viewing times. Crowley stepped up to the cashier and asked over his shoulder, “Which flick are we seeing again, Angel?”

Aziraphale sighed. You simply could not ask a demon to not be a demon .. ever. Besides, he thought, that would get boring. Pretending to put the best face on it, “A Summer’s Night, dearest.”

Crowley choked. He’d honestly forgotten the name. He’d also forgotten, since he had no need to remember, the Someone Awful titles these kinds of things usually had. But it could have been Debbie Does Dallas. He smiled temptingly at the twenty-something ticket seller. “Two for A Summer’s Night.” 

The ticket seller blushed. “We have to ask, sir. May I see your identification to verify your age?”

Crowley laughed and smoothly miracled up a drivers’ license showing him to be 45. The twenty-something glanced at it and punched the appropriate buttons to complete the transaction.

With tickets in hand, they stepped into the lobby. The carpet was not sticky and the walls were brightened with more movie posters. Crowley approached the refreshment counter which gleamed of glass and new fittings asking, “The usual, Angel?”

“Of course, my dear.”

“One black coffee, one Mocha Pearl boba tea, and a large buttered popcorn.” Crowley paid with his phone, gathered the haul, and turned to find Aziraphale taking down notes in a small notebook with a pencil. Since he knew that Aziraphale’s memory could handle with perfect clarity centuries worth of data, he was compelled to ask, “Whatcha doin’?”

Aziraphale did not look up from his notetaking. “The Committee will expect an accurate assessment in the report. Documentation of observations in real time will be advantageous.”

Crowley pondered that. This was beginning to sound like something else that had not been so much fun, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it yet.

The ticket taker tore their tickets and directed them to screening room 4 on the left. The hallway was also clean and refurbished with spanking new rubbish bins that had yet to become gross, non-sticky carpet and digital signs above each of the four screening rooms that listed the movie titles and their screening times. They entered room 4 and walked up the ramp to what would be the wide aisle between the orchestra pit and the loge in a different type of theatre. The room could seat perhaps 100 persons maximum, but today there were only two other couples. Aziraphale took a long time deciding where to sit for the best view, finally opting for the second row up in the loge, center. The other cinema-goers had staked out more isolated seating further up leaving the center seats wide open.

Crowley settled them into their seats and watched, fascinated, as Aziraphale took notes.

The theatre owner had realized that a long segment of movie previews was not going to go over well with this crowd, so the opening shorts were limited to concession stand information, ‘be courteous’ admonishments and a couple of action movie trailers. Aziraphale took notes of it all.

Finally, the feature film began. Surprisingly, it had a plot. Turns out, A Summer’s Night was about three couples who were all on their honeymoon at the same resort. Each of them encountered at least one new consensual sexual experience, not necessarily with their own partner, all in ‘a summer’s night’. Clever. Hehe hehe hehe.

Aziraphale seemed transfixed as the “story” unfolded. The scritching of notetaking, although probably not audible to the other couples, built to a crescendo along with the “plot”. Crowley found it more fascinating to watch Aziraphale than anything that was happening on screen. After 6000 years, there wasn’t much along those lines that he hadn’t already seen or heard about. What was surprising was Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale had let his fingers glow just a tiny bit so that he could see the paper. It was a good thing that he brought a notepad with a lot of pages because sometimes he didn’t look away from the screen as he scrawled. Well, Aziraphale never scrawled but sometimes his font was a little too large for the note paper if he wasn’t looking at it.

As the movie progressed, Crowley found that the note taking activity could not be about everything shown on the screen. Scenes where the actors were just walking around or conversing by the pool or some other filler activity elicited no notes. Scenes with rather traditional (as defined by current English custom) sexual content rated only a note or two. As activities progressed into more experimental avenues, the note taking increased. He began to try to predict the scritching by watching the film and listening for the pencil. 

In spite of himself, the film grew on him. That is to say, occasionally, Crowley forgot to listen for the pencil as he imagined that he and Aziraphale were at home engaged in a few of the on screen activities. Since the Abotcholypse and after the Trials, when he and the Angel had been able to consummate their feelings, Crowley had found that his corporation responded a bit more enthusiastically to certain things than it used to in the Before days. 

For example, the scene where Iris had run out of her suite straight into the arms of Alisha leaving Ricardo languishing in the bath after a fight reminded Crowley of that time in Alexandria when Aziraphale had run straight into him. The Angel had been upset at having blessed a decidedly less than deserving man at Gabriel’s request. He was having Doubts when he crashed blindly into Crowley. Any demon worth his salt would have taken the opportunity to capitalize on the situation, but Crowley had taken the distraught Aziraphale back to his own rooms for a bit of privacy. He had comforted the Angel, smoothing his hands over his body and holding him close murmuring nothing words. He had plied Aziraphale with a little wine to calm him and a small plate of dates. Eventually, the Angel had gotten himself under control, hrumphed, and bid Crowley good-bye until next time as though nothing had happened. Crowley had spent the night dreaming of how Aziraphale had felt in his arms. How he wanted to rub his whole body up against him. How holding Aziraphale close had made his blood rush through his ears and his breath shorten to pants. How he had wished that he had touched and smoothed and, ah, elongated a certain portion of Aziraphale’s corporation.

Crowley shook himself. Now he didn’t know if Aziraphale took any notes about that scene. Drat.

Then there was the restaurant scene. Chloe and Paul (James’ and Alisha’s actual partners) engaged in a little food enticement while their partners were paying the bill since the split had not been done accurately. Chloe was eating small bites of her dessert while making sinfully decadent moans and staring straight at Paul as she did it. A split screen showed Chloe’s surprisingly long and dexterous tongue wrapping around a forkful of tiramisu while her foot, carefully concealed by the long table cloth, was massaging Paul’s crotch. Crowley was instantly transported to just the other evening when Aziraphale had been eating the tiramisu Crowley had brought home from Treviso, Italy. Nothing but the best aphrodisiac for his Aziraphale! And he knew exactly what he was doing with every little moan and fork lick with those wide open blue eyes staring directly at him under white gold lashes. Crowley almost discorporated envisioning what was sure to happen later with Aziraphale’s tongue wrapped around a more personal appendage. The pleasure had increased for both of them after Crowley had discovered the full range of flavored lubricants (including a couple of flavors he miracled up himself) which he now kept in great variety and close to hand. A certain coffee flavored variety appealed to Aziraphale as, when applied appropriately (which means everywhere) compelled Crowley to lick it all off Aziraphale’s corporation. Everywhere. All of it. ………

Drat!! He missed Aziraphale’s scritching again! 

Crowley shifted in his seat. Aziraphale stopped notetaking for a moment a murmured quietly, “Everything all right, dear?” Crowley growled back, “ Yep. Tickety boo.” Aziraphale smiled and returned to the notebook.

Penultimately, there was a scene between Iris and Ricardo where Ricardo gave himself up entirely to be restrained by Iris. The movie had safe words everywhere (as it should be) and Ricardo could have definitely gotten himself out of any of the soft rope knots, but Crowley hadn’t paid attention. In his mind’s eye he replayed the time he and Aziraphale had realized that they were on the same page with loving each other. He had begged Aziraphale to restrain him. He wanted to show how much he loved and trusted Aziraphale. Aziraphale had not understood originally but Crowley had explained that this was an act of devotion by him. To show Aziraphale that the Demon known as Crowley, the Wild Thing, a Creator of Chaos (in a small way), a Rebel with His Own Side would be tamed by the Angel Aziraphale, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the Principality who had made Earth his home and who still believed in God if not in Heaven. That he would trust that Aziraphale loved him and would never imprison him or hurt him or betray him. Aziraphale had looked at him with those loving sky blue eyes that still sparked of heavenly power and then reached for him and crushed him to his chest. My Dearest, he had said, and wept angel tears into his shirt. My Dearest. And then he had gone to find a few books, and did some reading and gone to the right stores and then, eventually, in the fullness of the After Time, Aziraphale, the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the Principality who lived on Earth, who still believed in God but not Heaven did bind the Demon known as Crowley , a Wild Thing, a Creator of Chaos (in a small way) and a Rebel with His Own Side and loved him with all his heart and mind and body because Crowley was a precious thing.

The credits were rolling and the lights were coming up and Crowley blinked his eyes. Drat! He had missed Aziraphale’s note taking again. He shifted in his seat.

Aziraphale was looking at him with a small smile on his face. “Ready to leave dearest?”

Crowley pressed his lips together in a firm line but answered nonchalantly, “Sure.”

They got up and made their way out of the cinema. Aziraphale had smiled at the proprietor who knew who they were and why Aziraphale was there to re-assure him. The man had a wife and two kids at home and needed to expand the types of movies in his rotation since sales were down due to DVDs and streaming video.

Crowley held the door of the Bentley for Aziraphale and they drove the 3 minutes home in pleasant silence. To make his point though, he didn’t hold Aziraphale’s door when they got home. Aziraphale smiled.

Crowley went out to the garden. He re-potted a begonia that was having a hard time and put a few stakes under the peonies. After yelling at them of course. You can’t let them get big headed after all. Then he sauntered back into the kitchen to find Aziraphale just tapping the pages of his report together before stapling. “Well? Are you going to recommend having it shut down?”

Aziraphale didn’t even look up. “Oh no. There would be no point to that if our goal is to keep R18 out of the community! It’s not like the same content can’t be viewed in a multiple other ways.”

Crowley was impressed that it seemed as though Aziraphale had grasped at least something about modern technology. “So what are you recommending?”

“I am suggesting … Angels persuade, Crowley. Humans have to decide for themselves. We stay in the back ground with Good Ideas.”

Crowley snorted.

Aziraphale cleared his throat, pressing on. “No. I am suggesting that the license be restricted to certain areas. Say kept certain distances away from institutions such as schools or churches or daycare. Although I dare say in theory it would be good if they were right by the church. We’re supposed to encourage the right choices, after all.” He looked at little depressed about that.

“Certain areas? I get that in concept but what does that mean here?” 

“Well,” Aziraphale began, obviously quite pleased with himself. He pulled out a map showing the Lickfeld Village boundaries. “If you look carefully and pick any distance and draw a circle with that radius using the Odeon as the center you will find that 1 kilometer would mean that only the Odeon would fit the criteria within the Village boundaries. Everywhere else would be closer to one of those institutions than 1 kilometer.” 

“You sneaky bastard! You didn’t want the theatre owner to go out of business!” 

“Of course not, Crowley!” Aziraphale huffed. “The very idea!”

Then a thought struck him and Crowley asked, “But how will that keep corruption out of the Village if you let it in at the Odeon?”

Aziraphale looked incredibly pleased with himself. More than with the map. “Well….. I’m retired now and I don’t want to go gallivanting across the country to try to do good things. Why not have blessing opportunities come to me and save the trip?” He snapped the report into a binder and labelled it Report on R18 Film at The Odeon. “I shall tell the Advisory Council that if we try to eliminate all R18, we’d be sued and we don’t have the budget for that. Which is true by the way.” A final pat on the report and he stood up. “Cocoa? Something stronger?”

Crowley followed him into the sitting room that had a crackling fire in the fire place and good whisky with glasses on the small table between their chairs. Well, Aziraphale’s chair was a chair but Crowley’s chair was more of a chaise-lounge/fainting couch sort of affair that was a better fit for the thing Crowley called sitting.

They got comfortable with whiskey glasses in their hands and stared at the fire for a bit. “So, what was with all the note taking? I don’t see why you’d need that many notes for your report.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer for a while. And then, with a hugely contented sigh he said, “Oh that was for you, dear.”

Crowley was so surprised he sat bolt upright. “For me?” He rushed to the kitchen and found the notebook on the table where Aziraphale had left it. He rifled through the pages and found a lot of gibberish sprinkled with notes like “C seemed to like the fellatio style in the bathroom scene.” Or “C drifted off during the handjob” or “Huckleberry lube? Is C a huckleberry?” or “That knot looked interesting.”

A smile crept over his face as he sauntered back into the sitting room. “You bastard!”

“Possibly. But worth knowing I’ve heard you say.” Aziraphale punctuated that with a sip of whiskey that he savored all the way down. “But a valuable research opportunity into what to implement later tonight if you’d like.”

Crowley sipped his own whiskey and basked in the glow of the Angelic Bastard Aziraphale and thought, not for the first time, that he was the luckiest demon in Creation. “Surprise me.”

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this was actually a personal experience. A town I lived in long ago had a ballot item concerning whether or not a recently renovated XXX theater should be allowed to remain. As a voter, I thought it was my duty to investigate.


End file.
